


Not on the Tour

by ishtarelisheba



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Accidental Pregnancy, F/M, Ish promptathon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-03 02:05:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10233254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishtarelisheba/pseuds/ishtarelisheba
Summary: Belle spends her holiday from work taking a tour of the museum near her vacation destination. The same tour. Over and over. The guide for the Egyptian exhibit had caught her interest, and she's determined to catch him in return.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts _standbyyourmantis said: Prompt: Rival archaeologists have sex in/on a sarcophagus_  
>  standbyyourmantis said: (re: my previous prompt, please feel free to replace a museum coordinator or a professor for one or more archaeologists)

“Here we stand before a wonderful granite statue carved in the 14th century BCE for Amenhotep the Third. You can see here how it’s quite the perfect summation of what a Pharaoh was intended to be - half human and half divine, eternally young, idealized features. Unfortunately it isn’t at all a true portrait of Amenhotep, though I’m certain he approved of the reflection. If you have a look between his legs, you can still just see the ceremonial bull’s tail that he’d have worn on official occasions…”

It was the last tour of the day. The museum would close soon after it had finished, and Belle intended to get every bit of enjoyment out of it that she could. She’d already followed the small group through the room holding a 1:100 replica of the Giza pyramid complex and a room filled with smaller statuary, including a collection of statuettes in a row under glass, each with an impressive erection.

“The god Min,” the tour guide had said, and Belle had paid rapt attention despite knowing everything he could possibly say about them. “Min was a deity of reproduction and virility, called Lord of the Processions and God of the High Plumes. He had two wives - Iabet and Repyt - and was said to be the son of Isis and Osiris.”

Each small statue held a flail in one hand while the other wrapped around the base of its phallus - it was a row of impressive erect cocks. The guide had been looking right at her when she licked her lips, and she thought perhaps he’d turned just as pink as she had. 

He led the group into a room filled with life size, high quality prints detailing a number of mummies, the centerpiece of which was a reproduction of Henutmehyt’s sarcophagus. It was one of the museum’s prized pieces, displayed on a low platform so that guests could see the details and gilding all over, and it was where the tour ended.

Belle walked around the sarcophagus as the guide finished. She stayed behind when the tour - and sadly the guide, as well - left. She watched him go, wishing that he weren’t quite _so_ dignified. She’d have liked to see him from behind without that suit jacket, no matter how well it was cut.

She was concentrating on the print of Nesitanebetashrua, frowning as she recalled the bits of damage that the mummy had suffered by way of shipment and research since the photograph was originally taken, when someone asked from behind her, “Do you realize how many times you’ve taken this tour?”

Belle smiled. She’d have known that Scottish accent anywhere. She had only listened to it for _hours_ over the last week or so.

“Hmm…” she hummed, crossing back to the sarcophagus, where the guide had stopped. She ran a fingertip over the images of Isis and Nephthys on the front of it. “Six? Seven?”

“Twelve,” he enunciated carefully, and she thought she heard some sort of pride behind it. 

She blinked, surprised. “You kept up?”

“You’re very… conspicuous in your visits.” He switched his cane to his left hand for a moment, extending his hand to her. “Dr. Clarence Gold.”

“I know,” she said with a grin. She took his hand, and the unexpected warmth of it sent a sizzling wave of desire right through the middle of her. “You introduce yourself at the beginning of every tour.”

“Ah. Yes.” His cheeks pinked a little again. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name, though.”

“Belle French.”

“You’re interested in archaeology, Ms. French, or Egypt specifically?”

“Well, my degree is in Egyptology,” she told him, smirking at the opportunity to drop that bit of information. She supposed that her appearance must not fit with most peoples’ idea of an archaeologist. She’d grown to enjoy the surprise that telling them about her profession brought. “I’m on holiday from a sizable dig near Sohag.”

There was no surprise in his expression, though - only pleasure. His smile broadened. “And yet you’ve gone through this tour every day for the last two and a half weeks. A tour geared toward the great unwashed.”

Belle chuckled. “I get the sense you’d rather be knee deep in dust and mold than walking around a nice, clean museum.”

“Once upon a time, I was.” His smile turned so wistful that it hurt a bit. He lifted the tip of his cane from the dark tile, giving a tap to the foot that wasn’t taking his weight. “Cripples don’t exactly get the pick of digs. Particularly those in the most sought after fields,” he said, quite obviously bitter about that fact.

“Well, my visits might have been more about the view than the tour itself,” she admitted, hoping to bring the conversation back around to something more cheerful just now.

He frowned a bit, apparently bemused by her remark. “The view?”

She raked her gaze down his body, at the way his waistcoat nipped in snug at his waist, the way his trousers were tailored _just right_ to flatter him from the hip, hoping that it was enough to illustrate precisely what she meant.

Belle nodded. “The view.”

She closed the few feet between them, slowly pressing close and insinuating her knee nearly between his, tilting her head back in invitation. Clarence looked down at her like he might be thinking about pinching himself, but also as though he very much wanted to take the kiss she offered.

“Ms. French-” he began, and she felt the soft puff of her name on his breath.

“Belle,” she corrected him firmly. She slid her hands up the front of his waistcoat, wrapping one around his tie and pulling him down the rest of the way.

The kiss was a shocked one on his side, at least for the first few seconds. It took that long for him to regain some of his wits and kiss her back. She heard his cane hit the tile floor just before he lifted his hands to cradle her face between them. The kiss he returned rocked her back on her heels, leaving her grasping at him for a hold on his clothing. He made a noise, desperate and needy, in the back of his throat, and the sound and the vibration of it shot right to the core of her.

When she was sure that her balance wasn’t going to be thrown off, she slipped her hands up into his jacket and pushed it off his shoulders. It was an awkward exercise, getting him out of the jacket when he didn’t seem to want to take his hands away now that they were finally on her. She ran her hands back down his sides, appreciating the slim figure of him. Her hands made their way to his hips before she slid them back to engage in the bit of ass grabbing she’d been fantasizing about for more than a week.

The grab seemed to surprise him, and he broke the kiss. Belle grinned, pleased with herself. She took advantage of the moment to turn Clarence and place herself between him and the sarcophagus.

“Help me up,” she said, reaching to hold onto his forearms, ready to brace herself.

“Here? Right here?” he asked, a little bewildered at her direction.

“There aren’t exactly any other horizontal surfaces in the room.”

A shy grin spread across his face, and he braced his hands around her waist to lift her. He held on until she’d found a stable position, a gesture she didn’t miss.

Belle pushed her shoes off and wrapped her legs around him to bring him closer. The sarcophagus was was just the right height. She could feel just how interested he was in what she offered him. She shifted enough to pull her thin, mid-calf length skirt up around her hips and out from under her, then reached between them top open his button and fly. 

He dropped his hands to still hers. “Ms.- Belle,” he corrected with a quick shake of his head. He seemed to search her face for something. “Are you sure? You want… _this?”_

‘This,’ by which she felt as if he meant _him._ She squeezed her knees against his sides. “Very sure. Absolutely positive,” she told him, practically squirming with the anticipation of getting what she wanted. “If you could have heard the things I’ve been thinking in every room of this exhibit over the last couple of weeks…”

His smile tilted, going lopsided and a bit bashful again. “Yeah?”

“God yes,” she gasped, slipping her hand into the opening in his boxers and wrapping her hand around him.

Clarence’s body gave a shudder at the touch and his mouth fell open, his eyes squeezing shut. His hands on her thighs tightened until she thought she might have bruises in the shape of his fingers the next day. The idea of it only spurred her on. 

He seemed to get hold of himself, because his hands moved higher, up to the juncture of her legs meeting her body, one of them dipping in between. She knew the moment he realized she wore no panties. His eyebrows rose and his eyes snapped back up to meet hers.

She couldn’t hold back a groan when his fingertips stroked up the cleft of her pussy. “Trust me, I’m ready,” she assured him, giving him another encouraging pull against her with her legs.

It didn’t take a great deal of effort to get their aim right. She slid the head of his cock against her, through her wetness, and with one thrust he was inside. Belle held onto his shoulders for a moment, the feeling stealing the air from her lungs, before she managed to wrap her arms around his neck.

“Are you-” he began to ask, his voice strained.

 _“Hard,”_ she told him, fighting to keep from screaming the word. 

He pressed his face against the curve of her neck and shoulder, and she felt the vibration of his groan, then his teeth on her skin just as he obeyed her demand. His thrusts started off hard and fast, and they stayed that way. She bit her lip in an attempt to keep as quiet as possible.

He was hitting the right spot. _God_ was he ever hitting the right spot. With nearly every thrust in, they’d found the right amount of friction against her clit, and the way she was sitting on top of the sarcophagus gave him the perfect angle on what she had to assume was her g-spot. She saw absolute stars every time the head of his cock hit it.

“There!” she gasped, her fingers clawing at the silk backing of his waistcoat. “Right there! Fuck!”

His hands gripped at her waist, and she felt him go beyond nipping at her neck. He whimpered against her, and she felt a far sharper sensation as his teeth closed harder on her skin. She had hardly enough time to realize that her orgasm was close before it hit her. 

Belle bit her lip to smother her cry and her body bucked against him. He came just after her. Clarence went rigid with one last, particularly hard thrust, and she felt him finish. He groaned, soft and long, into her neck. Her head spun a bit. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had an orgasm so strong that it actually sent her reeling.

She slid her hands back so that she didn’t hold him in quite such a vice grip, but she clung to the shoulders of his waistcoat. He pulled back enough to nudge his head against hers, and they remained there for what felt like a dangerously long time.

“Belle…” he breathed, sounding as if he’d been broken and only half put back together.

She smiled, bright and broad. “I can get you a job on my dig.”

“You- what?” He tilted his head back, staring at her in disbelief that she couldn’t blame him for. 

Belle kissed him, nipping at his lower lip before leaning back to look at him again. “You think I’m letting you get away after that?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - _tinuviel-undomiel said: Prompt!: Bast, the Egyptian Goddess of Fertility bestows a little blessing on our Rumbelle archaeologists! ;-D_

Clarence was cooling his heels in his last days as a museum tour guide. Belle was true to her word - not two weeks after she’d gone back to work, he’d received a registered letter inquiring after his résumé. Another week, and he’d gotten notice that the position was his. 

Truth be told, he would miss the place a bit. Well, the Egyptian exhibit, at least. It was one of the nicer ones he’d seen, particularly after he’d fleshed it out with more accurate information and used his connections to add a few good replicas. He considered it an act of altruism, putting the fear of God into the coordinator over her attempts to smuggle in authentic artifacts from overseas. It was that or turn her in to customs enforcement, and he had a feeling she’d prefer the former. The real pieces they did have were on loan from the Egyptian government. Above board. He wouldn’t have the name of the museum besmirched out of greed.

He wasn’t just giving up the comfortable museum job to get back into the field, despite having wanted it for near twenty years, now. He was leaving it behind for Belle. 

He’d gotten to spend the rest of the week with her before she had to catch her flight back to Asyut. Granted, most of it had been spent in his bed (far more comfortable than her hotel bed, as they quickly learned), but they’d done a lot of talking in between. Perhaps they didn’t know each other what one might call _well_ just yet, but he felt as though he was getting there.

Clarence felt… well, more than he had felt in a very long time. It was patently ridiculous for him to be so much as thinking the word ‘love’ in regards to a woman he’d known for all of a month. Especially when he’d only spent four days of that month in her physical presence. And yet.

There’d been daily e-mails and a few staticky phone calls, as well as a handful of charmingly sentimental tourist trap postcards. They had regularly exchanged sentiments of “I miss you” and “I can’t wait to see you again,” as well as some more graphic statements - mostly on her end of their communications. 

He worried a little, though. Her usual evening e-mail hadn’t arrived the previous day. She was busy, he knew. He remembered how late he’d stayed at dig sites. She was passionate about her work, and he’d been the same. A missed e-mail was nothing to get terribly upset about, and he would be flying out himself in only a few more days, after all.

Clarence took off his suit jacket and tossed it over the sarcophagus before going to fiddle around with the placement of a nice, tall statue of Ptolemaic period Bastet with kittens at her feet. The original was less than thirty centimeters. He patted the three foot tall reproduction fondly. Thursdays were slow. It was nearing four and he’d only had two tours. He’d already wandered through Mal’s dinosaur tour with the kids, distracting himself with their energy and awe, and lurked around the edges of Jefferson’s history of fashion tour for the devil of it. He felt like the very definition of biding one’s time.

“She’s my favorite. I have a smaller fake in that style at home. Closer to the real thing.”

He blinked, turning to find Belle standing in the sarcophagus room archway. She was beaming and freckled, radiant in a yellow and white striped sundress, and he could practically feel the desert sun still clinging to her.

“I know I shouldn’t have a favorite,” she said with a shrug as she walked on in. “I sort of feel like they’re all my children. Protective, you know? But I just have this soft spot for Bastet.”

“Belle…” he whispered, suddenly remembering that he had the power of speech. “What are you-?”

She laughed - the most joyful, heavenly sound - and ran the remaining distance between them to throw her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arm around her back and held her to him, nuzzling his face in the side of her neck and breathing her in. Gods, but she still smelled like Egypt.

“We uncovered something huge. The interns are doing their brushing and digging, and I had a couple of days doing nothing that my assistant couldn’t do.” She leaned back, laying her hands flat against his chest. _“So_ I thought I’d meet you here and we could fly back together.”

There was something a bit off about her demeanor, and it only became more obvious when she leaned back in to kiss him. It was somehow different from the kisses she had shared with him before she’d left. Her kiss was no less intense, no less avid, but there was a heightened warmth and tenderness that left him reeling in an entirely new way. She patted his chest as she pulled back, stealing a quicker peck before stepping out of the circle of his arm and away. 

“Belle?” he asked as she skirted around the room, looking over pieces she’d seen countless times. “Is something the matter?”

His thoughts spun through what might be wrong. She’d come in and run right into his arms. That seemed to point to nothing wrong between _them._ She had mentioned flying back together, so apparently she wasn’t about to tell him that his job offer had disappeared.

She came back around to his side of the room, stopping near the statue he’d been moving when she arrived. “Remember how I said I have a soft spot for Bastet?” she said, running a finger around the loop in the goddess’ sistrum before turning to him, a sheepish expression on her face. “Seems as if she might’ve had a soft spot for me.”

Clarence watched her, unsure how to respond. 

“Around the last time I was here. With you,” she went on, giving him a meaningful look.

“Bastet has a soft spot for…” He felt as though he might swallow his tongue. Or have a stroke. “P- pregnant women?”

She smiled, putting an arm around the plaster statue’s shoulders. “Maybe we should’ve chosen a room that didn’t have a fertility goddess looking on?”

“You’re pregnant.”

“Pretty dang.”

“You’re-”

“Pregnant. For a few weeks now.”

Clarence took a step backward, dropping into the replica of a Thutmosid Dynasty throne chair behind him, nearly missing it. She was _pregnant._

“It’s yours,” she assured him, moving closer again. “There was no one else I-”

“I wasn’t-” He shook his head, realizing how his reaction could be taken, and he reached a hand out for her. “I wasn’t going to ask.”

Belle took his hand, smiling down at him. “I would have told you sooner, but I didn’t want to give you the news over e-mail, and the phone lines have been so unreliable that-”

“No, I understand.” He drew her in to stand between his knees.

It took him a moment to work himself up to ask the question that needed asking. She’d built an entire life before him, lived half a world away. He couldn’t assume it of her. 

He looked down at their hands, running his thumb across the inside of her wrist. “Belle, do you want this?”

“I do,” she said, worrying at her lower lip with her front teeth. “Do _you?”_

Clarence gave her hand a gentle tug, and she sat down on his lap with a sigh. “More than anything,” he said.

She slipped her hand from his and cupped her palms against the line of his jaw, kissing him again. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her more closely to him. That seemed to spur her on. Her hands slid back into his hair and she curled her fingers tightly into it. Belle’s kiss grew hungry, bordering on ferocious, and the soft growl he swore that he heard in her throat gave him a rather immediate response.

“You’ve done your last tour today, right?” she asked when they had to part for breath.

All he could do for a moment was nod. “Last one would’ve been at five,” he answered, licking the taste of her from his lower lip. “No one came.”

“Mm, not yet, at least.” She gave him a smirk and braced her hands on his shoulders, turning to get her knees in on either side of him, straddling his lap.

He ran his hands up and down her sides, over her hips and down the outside of her thighs, reveling in getting to touch her all he wanted for the first time in a month. He gathered the skirt of her sundress higher, watching the need and anticipation grow in her features until he had the thin cotton fabric pushed past the crease of her thighs. Looking down, he shook his head.

“Well, don’t you travel prepared?” he said, doing his best to keep his observation light despite the way his ears warmed. Yet again, she’d arrived at his museum wearing no panties. It was a quirk he’d rapidly become fond of.

Belle nodded, clearly attempting to pretend some seriousness though the amusement on her face was too thorough to hide. “I believe in preparedness.”

The expression on his face told her how ironic he felt her remark was. Lack of ‘preparedness’ on both of their parts had resulted in her current condition far more than any deity with a penchant for granting fertility.

She brushed his point aside before he could make it in words by reaching for the front of his trousers. Before she could take down his zipper and have him exposed, he moved his right hand between her open legs and slid his middle and ring fingers into her. Belle’s hands went still. Her eyes closed and her mouth fell open, and he could feel the soft pants of her breath wash over his face. 

The curved seat of the throne made for excellent positioning. Drawing wetness from inside her, he stroked it up through her folds and parted his fingers just enough that her clitoris slipped in. He rubbed against it with a firm touch, the little bud pressed snugly between his fingers. A shudder passed through her body and she moaned.

Clarence brushed the waves of her hair back over her shoulder and kissed the soft curve of it. He stuck to only kisses at first, then scraped his teeth over her skin, gradually moving to nips, and then gave her a daring bite just where her shoulder met her neck. The result was spectacular. 

Belle came, bucking into him, and he was rather certain he’d have to hide her wet spot on the front of his trousers on the way out. Her knees squeezed at his hips and she ground herself harder against him and _there_ \- he absolutely felt the heat of her soaking through.

She scrabbled less gracefully at his zipper as soon as her orgasm had begun to fade. It took only seconds for her to have his hard cock pulled through the opening of his boxers. With his hands around her waist, he helped her rise up a bit so that she could guide him. His hands clenched tightly at her as she lowered, taking every last inch of him into herself and settling back onto his lap. He wasn’t _sure_ that he whimpered, but he wouldn’t have doubted it. There were no words for how good she felt.

He didn’t have long to adjust to the sensation before she began hitching her hips hard into him. He met her with thrusts as well as he could with such unsure leverage.

“Oh God, Clary…” she groaned as though the words were being pulled from her. 

Her hands grasped first at his waistcoat, but she seemed to be searching, because they continued upward. Her fingers ran along either side of his neck, sending a shiver through him. At last, she slid them back into his hair. Grasping hold of fistfuls, she pulled his head back so that he was looking right up at her. Belle’s eyes burned into his as she rode him, little huffs of breath forced from her with every thrust.

He felt the desperation building at the base of his spine, fire licking deep in his belly as she moved. She held his head where she had it, watching his face until he could no longer resist letting it pulse through his body. Pulling her down onto him, he finished deep.

Belle gasped against his mouth as he came. He felt her thighs shaking, and at the moment he noticed it, another orgasm shuddered through her. She rocked her hips where they pressed flush against him, and she pulled at his hair so hard that he saw stars.

She stayed there in his lap with him still inside her, letting go of his hair but wrapping her arms around his chest and leaning against him, holding on as if there were the slightest chance of him going anywhere. He wrapped one arm around her and rubbed her back in long, slow strokes with the other hand, hoping to keep her there for as long as she’d stay. There weren’t many thoughts he could properly form. One thing stood out in his mind, though. 

Belle was pregnant. She was going to have a baby. _They_ were going to have a baby. He was going to be a father again… The thought of it was frightening and it made him giddy with joy at the same time.

“How long have you known?” he asked quietly.

“A week yesterday.” She snuggled into his chest. He felt more than heard her giggle. “We’d just uncovered a new grave and I started feeling sick. I ended up puking into my assistant’s bag to keep from contaminating the site. It was just a matter of getting a test from the chemist after that.”

He snorted softly into her hair. Pulling away the hand that had been petting her back, he moved it between them, resting the back of it over her abdomen. 

Belle tilted her head up to give him the fondest look. “All packed up, aren’t you? Ready to go?”

“Everything staying in my house has been slipcovered. The things I want to take along have been shipped,” he confirmed, bowing his head to pluck a sweet kiss from her lips. “My suitcases are sitting next to the front door as we speak.”

“Good,” she said, her hand joining his. “I can’t wait to take you home with me.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Prompts - _shipperqueen93 said: NotT: Belle and Gold have their first argument over a find and Gold expects that she'll throw him off the site and out of the baby's life.  
>  shipperqueen93 said: NotT prompt: Tent sex. I need some tent sex._)

He sat on a gardening mat on the edge of the dig trench, brushing sand from the crevices of an ushabti. Belle knelt on an identical mat next to him. She leaned a tad perilously to reach into the trench, using careful motions of a wooden coffee stirrer to clear dirt and debris away from her find. 

“This one makes an even two dozen,” she said as she unearthed another of the faience statues. The intern serving as her assistant, Emma, took it as she handed it up. 

There were a number of other college students participating in the dig. A few helped with cataloguing and labeling, the handful who had learned how to behave around the artifacts helped at the trench, and the rest stood with box sifters on the other side of the open work tent. In Clarence’s opinion, they were more trouble than they were help, but Belle seemed to adore most of them.

She sat up and leaned her shoulder against his, wiping at her forehead with the back of her glove. “I _know_ there’s something here.”

“Still feeling it, hm?” He turned his head to press a kiss to her cheek. She was hot and sweaty, same as everyone else on the site. 

Belle nodded to the statue he was cleaning up. “Been feeling it since we found the first one.”

“You don’t find this many ushabtis if there’s not a burial site nearby,” Clarence agreed as he cleared dirt from the weave of the lovingly sculpted food basket on the statue’s back.

He caught her absently petting her abdomen while she watched one intern handing up buckets of dirt to another for sifting. It was something she’d been doing more often lately. She hadn’t yet started to show, but Clarence was enjoying being with her as much as he enjoyed getting to wade around in sand and dead things again. More, he’d daresay. Belle happily let him in on knowing everything as it happened, took him along to her appointments, accepted his hands where hers lingered just now. He hadn’t gotten to witness much of his ex-wife’s pregnancy with his son, and it was all brilliantly new.

“Hey, Clary?” Belle reached for his arm. “Help me down? I want to poke around the other side of the grid again.”

“You spent six hours yesterday in the very square you’re headed toward,” he pointed out, though he took her hands to help her climb in.

“I certainly did,” she said as she dusted her hands on her trousers, squinting up at him. “And I still have a funny feeling about it.”

She reached for her open tool roll on the surface next to Clarence, giving it a check. A spoon and two of her wax tools were missing. She sent a glare across the trench at a boy who did more distracting her interns than actual work.

“Mind if I borrow a spoon?” she asked.

Clarence glanced down at his own kit. “Excavation gremlins?”

“Probably the one that thinks sunblock’s going to impede his flirting,” she grumbled, taking the bent spoon when he held it out for her. 

“Takes some of them a while to learn.” He gave the brim of her canvas Tilley an affectionate flick before she grabbed her mat and left for the other side of the grid.

Emma hopped down into the trench, tagging along to help. He watched as Belle dropped her mat onto the dirt and got herself settled to scrape away at the dirt again. She was lovely to watch work. She fixated and obsessed, and she loved what she did. He couldn’t count the nights he’d listened to her gush about a small find or speculate on what waited for them to dig it out into the wee hours of the morning. 

He took over fielding questions from interns who knew better than to disturb her while she excavated layer by careful layer. The day produced the usual pottery shards and a couple of fractured oil bottles, both of which pointed to Belle’s feeling being likely. Clarence took lunch down to her. He sat on the surface next to the square she worked on, keeping her company while she eyed the dirt and ate her sandwich on autopilot, vaguely responding as he talked. He kissed her and she gave him a smile before he returned to the square he’d been excavating.

Early evening approached, and they headed into the downside of daylight. He began to suspect that he would have to take supper down to her, too. It wouldn’t be the first time. One of the interns volunteered to fetch food from town, and he’d opened his mouth to call across and ask what Belle what she wanted… when she screamed.

A second of shock froze the site in the wake of it before Belle used her words. “I knew it! I _knew_ it! Clary, I told you!” 

Clarence dropped himself into the trench on his good foot, grabbing his cane from next to the rest of his things. Her workers and interns had already crowded around the edge to look by the time he made his way over. She held a hand out to him, beckoning him hurriedly in and taking hold of his shirt sleeve when he got within her reach.

He squatted down with her to look at her find. She’d uncovered a good portion of a tibia and had begun to expose the accompanying fibula. There were a couple of fragments of linen toward the top of her newly excavated area. He could see why she was so thrilled.

“Belle… this is…” He looked over at her, smiling and shaking his head. “Those gut feelings of yours are going to be legend.”

“I knew it!” She pulled the hat from her head and swatted at him excitedly with it. “We’ll have to- to set new lines, expand the grid, maybe even accept more interns-”

“Or put to work the ones you have,” Emma said, and the group around her did a bit of mumbling.

“I’ll have to call Blanchard-Nolan to tell them!” Belle popped to her feet, pulling her hat firmly back on. “The company’ll increase our funding and time frame. We may even finagle a grant out of somebody after this!” 

A hesitant voice came from near the back of the group of interns. “Um… Dr. French?”

The young man that the voice belonged to was heavy, had a good foot and a half of height on Belle, and was possibly the shyest person she had ever known. He hadn’t said a dozen words in a row since she’d met him, and aside from Emma, he did more work in the trench than the reset of her interns combined.

“Yeah, Anton?” Belle waved a hand at him, encouraging him forward.

“That strange Jeep that’s been around a couple times?” Anton said as he approached the edge of the trench. “We saw it again this morning. It drove up and turned around before you got here.”

The excitement died down very suddenly. Everyone went quiet, looking at each other. There had been talk of looters in the area. They were _always_ a hazard, going around at night looking for unattended dig sites, ripping them apart in search of artifacts that would sell. Belle hadn’t worried overmuch about it because there wasn’t too much to steal. Looters weren’t generally interested in pottery fragments or threads of linen, and everything portable, they padded and crated and took back to be locked up at the end of the day. A full set of remains and the expected burial adornments, however?

She looked at the bones, imagining someone coming in after they left for the night and using shovels to wrench them from the ground. She knew the disrespect they would be shown in the process of theft and selling, and she wouldn’t allow it.

“We’ll cover it over and come back in the morning as soon as it’s light out,” Clarence said, his fingers rubbing together at his side.

Belle shook her head. “No. No, they’ll see the loose dirt. They may be thieving bastards, but they aren’t that stupid.”

“We could break out the spotlight, work until we have the remains excavated?” Emma suggested.

“It’ll take days to do it properly.” Belle paced away from her find and back. “Hurry it and we could destroy important information.”

“Sweetheart, there’s only so much we can do,” Clarence told her. 

She crossed her arms over her chest, frowning over the edge of the trench and toward town. “No, there’s something. I’ll put up one of the tents and keep watch until the dig is safe. That’s what I’ll do.”

He looked at her for a moment, hoping he’d misheard. “Belle, I’m not sure that’s wise,” he said quietly.

“I have to protect this find. I won’t allow it to be sold off to some private collector when it should be researched and placed in a museum.”

“We’ll find another way to protect it, then. You can’t stay out here.”

She turned to look up at him. “Oh, yes I can.”

Clarence cupped a hand at her elbow, urging her aside and away from the others to talk. Not everyone knew.

“You’re pregnant,” he whispered. “Any other time, I’d agree with you, but it isn’t safe for you to plant yourself out here when there are looters coming ’round.”

Belle acquired a stubborn set to her jaw. “This is _important,_ Clary! This find might tell us something new. It might be one of the burial sites we’ve been looking for since- since-”

He looked at her as if she spoke a different language, unable to make sense of her. “You and our child are more important than any remains, Belle!”

“I’ll be fine!” she declared, propping her hands on her hips. “I’m not going to allow looters to steal what I’ve spent six months digging for!”

“Then have Blanchard-Nolan arrange for security,” he said. Plenty of digs in such areas had security for precisely the reason they argued over. Surely the B-N Workgroup could spring for it.

“You know there’s not enough time to arrange it tonight.”

“Belle, you can’t-”

She pressed her lips together in a thin line. “Clarence, I think you should go home.” 

He felt knocked a step back. It couldn’t have hurt more if she’d struck him. He supposed it was a good thing that he hadn’t acquired more belongings than would fit in with the rest of his luggage while he’d been there.

After a long look, hoping that she might take it back, he turned away from her. “I’ll be out by the time you’re back, then.”

 _“What?”_ Belle stomped after him, hurrying to catch up. He was quick, already having climbed out of the trench by the time she reached the edge. Something had just happened and she wasn’t sure what or how. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I won’t bother you,” he told her as he leaned down to roll up his tools, avoiding looking at her. “But when the baby comes-”

“You think I’m-” She stared at him, her mouth open in shock. “Clary, no!” 

He actually believed she’d kick him off the dig. Worse, he believed she would put him out of their baby’s life. The misunderstanding and overreaction to her telling him to go back to her flat threw her for a loop. Who the hell had burned him so badly that the first place his mind went was _there?_

She reached out, taking the tool roll from him before he could put it in his pack. “Look at me.”

Reluctant, he raised his eyes to her. “I couldn’t stand not knowing my child.”

“That’s not what I meant!” she cried, trying desperately to clarify. “I only meant that you should go back to the flat, that’s all!”

“Oh…” Clarence said softly, and it took him a moment to turn his thoughts around. 

Belle reached for his shirt lapels, pulling herself up and him down a bit until she could kiss him. There was still so much they needed to learn about one another. He’d had a life before her that informed the way he looked at the world, and she had a feeling she’d just run face first into one of the boulders it had left behind.

When their kiss broke, he leaned his forehead in to touch hers. Belle decided that it was time to say something she really should’ve told him a couple of months ago, all things considered.

“I love you, Clary,” she said, closing her eyes. “I want you here. On the dig and with me.”

He wrapped his arms around her, bringing her closer and holding on. “I love you.”

There was a rattle and a thump from the other side of the trench. They turned to find a slightly uncomfortable group composed mostly of college students pretending not to watch their display.

Emma cleared her throat. “So, uh. We decided some of us are gonna stay with you.”

“You see?” Belle smiled up at Clarence. “There are others staying. I’ll be fine.”

He ducked his head to kiss her again. “I know you will, because I’m staying, too.”

She oversaw the process of taking photos of the remains to send along as proof of her find for Blanchard-Nolan, then sat down in the shade of the work tent with her laptop to write an e-mail formally requesting security for the dig. It would be the next day at earliest before they’d have anyone out for protection, but hours could very well matter.

All of her workers and the handful of interns that Emma had gathered to help watch over the dig site pitched tents around the trench. By dark, they’d set themselves up with lanterns and dinner, and they sat around in a cluster until it was too late to justify avoiding sleep.

Belle was glad to see the inside of her tent, mainly because Clarence was there waiting for her. He sat on their unzipped sleeping bags 

“I found my missing tools,” she said as she sat down next to him with them in hand.

He chuckled. “Which gremlin did the borrowing?”

She put the three tools back into their pockets in her roll. “The one I’m a hair and a half from kicking all the way back to the states if he doesn’t leave my girls alone.”

“He’d deserve it.” Clarence leaned to brush a kiss against her cheek.

Belle pushed her backpack into the far corner of the tent before shedding the tan button-down she worked in. She leaned against him. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it clear what I meant. I never wanted to upset you like that.”

He shook his head, taking her hand and running his fingers along each of her own. “No. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”

“It’s been a long day. And a weird one.” She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. 

Clarence admired the freckles that scattered over the back of her arm. He ran a fingertip along them, sure that he could spot new ones.

She wore long trousers and long sleeves while they worked, just as they all did, to keep the sun from cooking them alive. The Egyptian sun kissed her anyway on the days they actually spent at her flat. They often ate and did paperwork in the semi-privacy of the courtyard. While going out in public was another matter, most of the flats in the building were taken by Brits and Yanks who couldn’t have cared less how much skin her sundresses showed. 

“How would you feel about a little quality time in a new place?” Belle asked as she reached to slip open one of his buttons. 

When he looked at her, he found her grinning up at him. “Out here?” he asked, his eyes moving between her face and her fingers quickly unbuttoning his shirt. “Your interns are ten feet away in either direction.”

She slid her hand up the front of his undershirt. “We can be quiet. We were quiet in the museum…”

The smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth told Belle the moment he gave in. She set about getting him properly undressed, pleased when he went for her bra hooks as he leaned in to kiss her. Her bra straps fell loose on her shoulders and she shrugged it down her arms so that she could drop it aside, sighing at the feeling of his hand rubbing between her shoulderblades. Clarence’s free hand ran down her side. It hovered for a moment at her stomach before continuing lower. Undoing her trousers so that he could get his hand down the front, he pushed her panties aside and slipped his fingers into her. 

She fisted her hands in the front of his undershirt, closing her eyes and relaxing to allow the way he moved his fingers to sway her body. His thumb rubbed circles against her clit, pushing her closer and closer to what promised to be a wonderful orgasm after the stressful day she’d had. Just as she thought she might tip over into it, he slid his fingers out of her, taking his hand away. She growled in frustration. 

“You’re _awful,”_ she said, and she laughed as she yanked his shirt down his arms. 

“Oh, did you want me to finish that?” he asked, that hint of a smirk blooming wider.

Clarence moved to let her push his sleeves off him. She pulled his undershirt off over his head, too, delighting in the way it ruffled his hair.

“Maybe we should turn the lights off,” she suggested, a grin playing at her lips. 

He looked up at the nylon walls of the tent around them. “Mm. Otherwise we’ll be putting on something of a shadow play, won’t we?”

Belle giggled as he leaned to grab his lantern’s handle and switch it off, then did the same for hers. “Not sure they’d be too happy about a show.”

The darkness wasn’t complete, thanks to the lanterns outside, but she preferred being able to see him better. She squirmed around in the tent’s confines to get out of her trousers and panties. Underwear was necessary in the sand and heat, but they were still a bother at times like this. It was gratifying to find him going through a similar process to get out of the rest of his own clothes.

She climbed over his lap, straddling him. “Want to risk going slow?” she asked as she put her hands on his shoulders and leaned her weight into him, pushing him to lie back. “Or hard and fast?”

“I don’t think either of us would be happy with an interruption in the middle.” His hands ran from her ribcage to her waist, and to her hips from there, rocking her against him. “Split the difference?”

Belle reached down, stroking her fingertips along the length of his cock and enjoying the strained groan it brought from him. She rose high enough on her knees to bring him up into place, then lowered herself slowly. He groaned more loudly and she leaned down to kiss him. She didn’t know how much sound might carry from tent to tent, but the idea of broadcasting her sex life to her interns probably wasn’t a good one. Kissing him quiet seemed like a good solution.

She shifted her hips one way and then the other, building a rhythm, grinding herself onto him. The way his gasps and pants sounded, she could tell that he tried to muffle them. Belle squeezed her knees against his sides. His hands tightened at her hips and he gave a sudden, shuddering thrust up into her, causing her to make an entirely too loud noise of her own. She buried her face in the side of his neck, laughing. 

Clarence turned his head to press kisses to the side of her face, getting another laugh from her. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled his legs up so that his feet rested on the floor of the tent, giving him leverage. Belle quickly understood what he was about. He let his hands slide back to her hips as she sat up again. Her bottom rested against the tops of his thighs, and the friction they made together when she began to move was nothing short of glorious. She felt _so good,_ and he couldn’t wait ’til she was ready to get back to her flat so that they could have a good, proper romp, to hell with who could hear.

The new angle evidently did something for her. She moved her hands to the sides of his chest, and he could feel her nails scrape across his skin. Her movements grew more hurried, and he didn’t think it had anything to do with trying to finish before anyone heard.

He heard soft echoes of, “Yes, yes, yes…” on her breath. 

She leaned into him once more, nuzzling against his shoulder. He could feel her mouth there, brushing along. Then her mouth opened and he felt her teeth touch him.

“Gods, Belle-” he managed, the words coming out strangled as he felt his orgasm building. 

Belle came first, and the mixture of the sting as she bit his shoulder to keep herself quiet and the feeling of her pulsing around him sent him right after her. He grit his teeth and swallowed a moan. 

She lay limp on him, spent and breathing heavily and shivering in the cooling desert air. He ran his hands up and down the soft expanse of her back. Turning onto his side, he took her with him. After a little rearranging of limbs, they settled together, and he held her snug against his chest while he reached over her to pull a side of one of their sleeping bags over them.

Everything had fallen silent. The last of Belle’s interns seemed to have retired for the night. The battery powered lanterns still glowed where they’d been placed in the sand - she could see them through the tent. Pillowed against Clarence, she was comfortable enough to fall asleep.

It seemed she’d only just let herself close her eyes when she heard the rumble of an engine getting closer to the site.

“Clary, wake up,” she hissed, sitting up and pulling her shirt on. “Wake up, there’s a vehicle outside.”

Belle worked her legs into her trousers before standing to pull them the rest of the way up. She unzipped the tent flap.

“Don’t go out there! Belle!” he began, but she’d disappeared into the open. He groped around for his clothes. “Son of a-”

“What do you think you’re doing?” he heard Belle snap outside. “This is a private dig site.”

He didn’t have time to get fully dressed. Doing up the front of his trousers, he pulled on his unlaced boots and leaned down to take the Walther PPK from his pack before stepping out into the open.

A wave of nausea hit him when he saw the situation. Belle stood a few feet in front of her tent, facing down three men holding shovels. Two brandished machetes and the third was strapped with a revolver. 

Clarence walked up next to Belle and raised his gun. The men laughed, and he proved his willingness to use the PPK by firing near enough over their heads to give their ears a good ring. Their laughter dried up.

“Try me,” he said, leveling the pistol at them again. “I’ve defended digs before. I’m not shy of blood, and I’m rather certain a dozen archeologists can bury you where you’ll never be found.”

That, apparently, put a bit of fear into the looters. They hesitated long enough that some of the workers and interns who had come out of their own tents had time to jump them. Disarmed and bound with zip ties, they lay face down in the sand, where they would remain until the authorities could fetch them in the morning.

“Damn, Dr. Gold…” Emma said, standing up from securing the legs of one of the men. She looked a bit impressed.

Belle beamed and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him soundly. She gave his bare chest a swat, though. “I can’t _believe_ you did that.”

He grinned, tossing the pistol back into the open tent. “I don’t know about now, but in my day, no one went out on a dig without a gun.”


End file.
